Newspaper Clippings
by Angelde1
Summary: A chance meeting in the park between two little girls, a man too passionate to spend his life in a 6x8 cubical and an eccentric rich pervert who will never have to. Somewhere along the line it doesn’t matter, and they are family. 33/69 AU


**Title: **Newspaper Clippings

**Warnings** – Will end up being extremely gay, eventually. (That means slash, for all you geniuses out there.)  
**Summary** - A chance meeting in the park between two little girls, a man too passionate to spend his life in a 6x8 cubical and an eccentric rich pervert who will never have to. Somewhere along the line it doesn't matter, and they are family. AU

**A/N-** You know, I'm pretty sure I can proclaim this the best multi-chapter Mukuro/Ryohei fic out there. Just saying.

0-o-0-o-0

There are exactly **two minutes** remaining until Sasagawa Ryohei's life changes forever.

Of course, he has no knowledge of this. But if he did he'd simply laugh at how un-extreme the notion that one random event can change his life is, because every move he makes changes his life forever. Hell, not noticing that the milk he'd poured into his cereal this morning expired two weeks ago had "changed his life forever" (and the life of his toilet, which would probably never be the same after the resulting two hours of turmoil).

His point: shit happens, deal with it. (Unsurprisingly, the toilet had _not_ been amused by his word choice.)

So, now there are **ninety-nine seconds** remaining until Ryohei's life changes forever.

Not that he cares, mind you. He's far too busy for such a luxury. The eighteen-year old is currently slouched on the only Red-Delicious colored bench in Kiwanis; one of Namimori's many parks. The sky above him is a rosy pink, littered with swirls of yellow and blue. Bees flutter about his choppy silver hair lazily, having finished their work for the day. Ryohei silently wishes he could say the same for himself.

He shakes his head, firmly reminding himself of why he is in this park holding the local newspaper in the first place. He has to find a new job because the one he had in high school (which, as of yesterday at 1:35, is _over_) was only part time. With renewed determination, Ryohei resumes flipping through the paper with great intensity. (Pretty impressive flipping, seeing as it's causing a draft strong enough to stir the leaves around him into a flurry).

He pauses when he reaches the "Help Wanted" section to rummage through the pockets of his worn gray sweatpants for a pen. And he finds one.

He wishes he hadn't.

Only** eighty-seven seconds** remain.

This pen, this newspaper. For him…they signify the end of a dream. Ryohei wanted to be a boxer. It was his life's ambition.

And maybe it still is.

His thoughts are all muddled up again (_everythingsrunningtogetherextremlyconfusing)_, but instead of slamming his head against this stupid bench in frustration like he wants to, he does what he usually does when his brain feels like it's about to spontaneously combust:

He looks at her.

He can't help but snicker at the way her lips are pursed in concentration and her shoulders tense in anticipation. She takes a deep breath and readies herself for the difficult task at hand. She closes her eyes tight and counts: One, two, three…

And Sasagawa Kyoko jumps off the swing, flying gracefully through the air and sticking the landing with both her feet planted perfectly on the ground.

"EXTREME JUMP, LITTLE SIS!" Ryohei can't help but holler proudly from his seat.

The girl's pale yellow dress twirls as she looks around for her brother. When she spots him she smiles so brightly that Ryohei is sure the sun _itself_ feels jealous. Kyoko sprints towards him as quickly as her seven-year-old legs can carry her and throws her arms around his neck, giggling as the stubble on his chin prickles her cheek—Ryohei remembers why he's doing this again.

"Onii-chan! You saw my jump, right? I felt like I went at least fifty feet into the air--"

Ryohei grins as his sister hops onto his lap and rambles on (as this is what little girls do best). It's just the two of them in this world, as it had been for the last seven years. Since then, Ryohei had taken it upon himself to make sure his sister had everything she'd ever need in life. He didn't need his dreams, not really. As long as she has hers...

"_Onii-chan_," his little sister pulls at his cheeks, frowning. "If you don't shave, no one will ever give you kisses." She pauses. "Except me, of course."

Ryohei grins, suddenly ruffling her hair. "Did I ever tell you that you're the best, most extreme little sister in the universe?"

Kyoko puffs out her cheeks in annoyance, but her brother notices that they've turned pink. He bites the inside of his cheek, trying his hardest not to laugh. (He fails. Badly.)

"Everyday," she replies before sticking her tongue out at him. "Now, where'd you put my shovel?"

Moments later she's scurrying off to the sandbox ("to build the greatest castle ever—for people who _shave_"). Sure, there are only **15 seconds** left until Ryohei's life changes forever—but currently he's humming Kyoko's favorite lullaby and putting his pen to work. At the moment, he is man very much in charge of his own destiny.

0-o-0-o-0

A small purple-haired girl sits at the edge of the sandbox. Her gray dress is pressed and neat, the snow-white bow that adorns her hair spotless. She leans forward so she can hesitantly runs her fingers over the warm sand, careful not to make a mess. She doesn't want to ruin her new dress (but she secretly wonders how the sand would feel between her toes.)

She thinks and chews on her lip a bit as she sits at the edge of the sandbox (which she later realizes, while she spits out sand and rubs her eyes frantically, is not the best place to sit, or even an okay place to sit, _ever_).

Someone sputters worriedly above her, "I'm so sorry! I tripped and…are you alright? Here, let me help you." The person above her pats at her eyes gently with a cloth, stuttering apologies the whole time. Once the sand is removed, she is most surprised to see a grinning light haired girl offering her a hand. She blinks at it, confused for a moment, before taking it.

When she's standing and presumably okay, the girl in front of her starts talking. "I'm real sorry; I shouldn't have run over here like that. I just wanted to make a sandcastle, that's all, a _huge_ one--hey, I know! You should help me! That way it'll be even bigger." The talkative girl practically bounces in happiness and grabs both of the other girl's hands (which unfortunately destroys any hope she'd had of escaping).

**Three seconds.**

"Ah, I almost forgot! Listen, I'm Sasagawa Kyoko. What's your name?"

**Two.**

"I-I'm…" Oh. Who was she again? This girl is so nice and overwhelming, staring at her expectedly like that. She doesn't usually talk to other girls her age, maybe it's because of her weird eye patch or her clothes and _oh,_ right, she's—

**One.**

"I'm Chrome!" She blurts out, blushing. "I'm Chrome Dokuro."

0-o-0-o-0

A normally accurate clock strikes in the distance, five minutes before the hour. It could be a coincidence (but Mukuro doesn't believe in those).

0-o-0-o-0

"Onii-chan, I just made a new friend! Her name's Chrome, and she's _super_ pretty. We built a great sandcastle, but you aren't allowed to look at it until you shave your stubbly chin—oh look, she's talking to that tall guy over there. Geez, what a fancy suit. I wonder if he's her big brother. Let's go meet him!"

0-o-0-o-0

"Ah, Chromo, you're back. Did you have any fun?"

"Yes. I meet this…interesting girl."

"Oya? What's she like?"

"Well, um…sort of like…when popcorn pops, or something…"

"Kufufu…Little Chromo, that doesn't make any sense."

"It doesn't? Oh…well, she's coming over here right now, so you'll see."

0-o-0-o-0

When they meet, it's a bit like an old western duel. Except there are no weapons. Or thick, eye-watering dust. Or that cool dramatic music (unless the sound of chattering seven-year old girls counts). But other then that, it's pretty much the same.

Mis-matched eyes are currently flickering over the form in front of them, growing narrower be the second.

"Chromo," the owner of those dangerous eyes says calmly, "is my very important little sister.

But the man before him is not known for backing down.

"Well, Kyoko is my _extremely_ important little sister."

They glare at each other and their differences are obvious. Ryohei's expression is cloudy, his sliver brows furrowed with all the righteous fury of the July sun; Mukuro has the audacity to smirk now and his eyes are half-lidded, implying that the person in front of him is not even _worthy _of his full gaze, and Ryohei sort of wants to strangle him right now.

"Kufufufu." The laugh is slow and lazy and _infuriating_--Correction: Ryohei _really_ wants to strangle him right now.

Meanwhile, Kyoko giggles and asks Chrome if she can braid her hair (because, _oh_, it would look _so pretty_ that way), and Chrome just stares at the girl for a moment (because how could someone be so…bubbly, _surely_ it got exhausting) before shyly responding yes, that would be nice.

Ryohei cracks his knuckles threateningly.

Kyoko squeals and claps her hands happily.

Chrome hides behind Mukuro, who cheerfully suggests they all go out for ice cream.

It is definitely the start of something beautiful.


End file.
